His Hand In Mine
by Arrhythmic Song
Summary: Sweet fluffy oneshot, puzzleshipping yaoi. An apple, a couch, a confession.


His Hand In Mine

* * *

_Yuugi- _

He's my yami, and he's my protector, and he's the Pharaoh.

Currently, though, we're both sixteen and living in the same house that we've always lived in, before _everything. _I'm sitting on the living room couch, draped over one of its arms, watching him cut me an apple. Everything Yami does just _oozes_ precision and deadly, fluid grace. He's everything I'll never be, but that doesn't faze me anymore. He's often told me I'm everything he'll never be, so we'll complete each other, won't we?

I watch the knife sink into the apple, cutting it first in half, then quarters, then eighths. Of course, silver isn't very interesting, so after a while, I let my eyes wander, resting them instead on Yami's hands. They're incredibly graceful, just like the rest of him. Long, beautiful fingers. People say I look just like Yami, but that's only because they're only looking at the most obvious feature- our hair. (They just _won't _believe we didn't use cement on it. Gel, maybe, but _cement?_)

There are _so _many differences between Yami and myself. His height, just that bit taller than myself, just enough that I fit nicely under his chin, melded close to him (I try not to gel my hair _too _solid). His eyes- they don't have the innocence that I still do, even though a couple of years has worn a little off it. His hands. They're the hands of a Pharaoh, callused like rough silk. Hands that hold me when I need them, and help me when I'm down.

But more, my Yami is like a big cat, the leopard or the cheetah or the lion. He has that aura of predatory beauty; something that one usually admires from afar, but doesn't get too close to. It's my privilege that he lets me close.

He puts the slices on a plate; not bothering to arrange them properly, then carries them over to me and favours me with a long look. "You've been very quiet lately. Is there anything wrong, aibou?"

The smile I give him is born of the warm, fuzzy feeling that spreads through me whenever he uses that term. "Nothing, Yami. Just thinking. _I_ can be serious _too_, you know," I mock-pout at him, and he breaks into a smile as well. Have I told you I love his smile?

Well, yeah. I love his smile.

I pop a slice of apple into my mouth, then pick up my forgotten book- _A History of Egypt_- and continue with it, snuggling down into his lap as he automatically shifts to make me more comfortable. He looks at my book and quirks one eyebrow, asking, "Why're you reading that? It's not as if I can't tell you what most of it says."

When I found out he was the Pharaoh, I was going to let him leave. After all, what point is there in keeping him by my side if his soul and mind and heart are elsewhere? But he stayed, and... and... I love him for that.

"Ah, but I _do _have to get outside opinions, Yami. And you won't let me talk to Bakura or Malik-" he growls half-involuntarily at the mention of them, and I giggle. "-so I'm reading this!"

He grumbles a little, but I think he finds the idea of me reading a book better than me consorting with a tomb robber and the guy-with-my-memories-etched-onto-his-back-not-to-mention-a-deranged-yami-who-might-or-might-not-be-still-in-the-Shadow-Realm-where-he-bloody-well-belongs.

My Yami can be very long-winded when he wants to be.

I giggle as I imagine the expression on his face, and my Yami being Yami, he immediately demands to know what I was laughing about.

I assume the cutest, most innocent face I can summon and sit straight upright, placing my hands primly on my lap.

"You see, I was just thinking that you would find the idea of me reading a book better than me consorting with a tomb robber and the guy-with-your-memories-etched-onto-his-back-not-to-mention-a-deranged-yami-who-might-or-might-not-be-still-in-the-Shadow-Realm-where-he-bloody-well-belongs. And then I thought that you could be very long-winded when you wanted to be."

His expression is exactly what I imagined it would be.

Engaging in a failed attempt to stop my laughing, I choke out, "And then I thought of your face if I'd said that... and you really _do_ pull this cute pouty face when I say that!"

A picture speaks a thousand words? So does my yami's face when he's offended.

Eventually, my giggles subside and Yami thinks it's safe to make a droll comment. It goes along the lines of "I didn't know one person could say that all in one breath."

I burst out laughing again. Yami flushes, but soon joins in, and I fall helplessly into his lap, wrapping my arms around my stomach- I'm developing a bad stitch.

It's minutes later that the laughter finally stops; because everytime my eyes met with Yami's, a fresh burst assaulted the both of us. I sit up, biting back grins and carefully averting my eyes from Yami, all the while massaging my stomach. Owwwww. It certainly wouldn't do for me to start laughing again.

Suddenly, a strong hand closes over mine, and I turn to find Yami looking at me with concern in his eyes. "Does it hurt very much?"

If I were just to lean forward a couple of inches... instead, I shake my head vigorously and grin at him. "No, Yami. It's just a stitch."

He nods. "That's good." But I notice, his hand doesn't leave mine, and I weave my fingers in between his. He looks faintly surprised for a moment, but then something- contentment? happiness?- settles over his features and he squeezes my hand lightly.

Between us, we finish the apple in a matter of minutes and I just lie there. There's nothing much else to do- and in fact, I don't want to do anything else but lie back in my Yami's lap and give him the occasional grin as I snuggle close.

Our hands still haven't let go.

"Yuugi?" his voice above me is suddenly hesitant, and my eyes fly open at the uncertain note in them. "I have something to tell you."

He probably sees the look of panic in my face and my eyes, because his hand tightens on mine and he quickly reassures me. "Don't worry, hikari. I'm not leaving you. I'd never do that. It's just... something personal. You see, I... I like someone."

"Oh." My voice is small, defeated. How can he say he's not leaving me? Once he falls in love with someone else, his time will never be all mine again. But I realize that this is a selfish line of thought, so I smile back at him calmly. "Just tell that person, then, Yami. It's not good to keep your feelings bottled up, you know." _Like you have any right to tell him _that_, Yuugi Mutou, _I think to myself.

"How?"

"How to tell someone you love them?" I ponder, then give him my list of possible solutions. "You could try for some really convoluted way of speaking, or you could just come out and tell them first off, or if you don't feel comfortable with words, you could hug them or kiss them or something. Or you could write them a note if you don't want to face rejection in person."

He seems to be considering the last one more seriously than most, so I quickly add, "But that's not a very good idea. It means too much waiting, and besides, Yami..." my voice softens as I add the last part of my sentence. "No one would be likely to reject you... I'm sure I wouldn't."

"Really?"

And the next minute I feel a tug on the hand that's still connected to Yami and my lips meet his, joining in a long, breathless kiss.

After we break it, he grins at me. "I thought the second suggestion sounded good."

* * *

Arrhythmic: Heheh, this was actually a present, owed to someone a long, long time ago... Hope it was liked! 


End file.
